


Best of Three

by ChicChicBoom



Category: Kagaku Ninja Tai Gatchaman | Science Ninja Team Gatchaman
Genre: M/M, unabashed smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-29
Updated: 2004-03-29
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChicChicBoom/pseuds/ChicChicBoom
Summary: While infiltrating a Galactor base, Ken and Joe end up in a compromising position. Well, it was mostly just awkward to start with but some things just can't seem to stay at equilibrium.





	Best of Three

**Author's Note:**

> This is old fic, written circa 2004. Part of the Great _Put It All In One Place_ Bonanza Event.

"This it?"

"I think so." It's not even a whisper in my ear, barely the smallest breath of air possible. Somebody on the other side of me wouldn't hear a damn thing so it's a given that the Galactor recruits walking by are completely oblivious. Here's hoping we're also fooling any machines listening in.

No matter what anybody else says I can be quiet when I want to be, and right now I have incentive in the form of Ken pressed so tightly against my back we'd leave the same shadow on the wall if anybody knew where to look. The snort is silent on my lips as I watch one of the enemy soldiers come within spitting distance, one short lunge away from a broken neck. So cluelessly close and I can’t do a damned thing about it without risking my own. I’m not worried about them; Ken is the one who’ll have my head on a platter if I screw this up.

The sad truth is that I don't need another one of his famous lectures; not today, not yesterday, or the week before or the week before that. My ass went numb before my ears did on the last one and I nearly lost a body part to frostbite. I’m willing to do just about anything to avoid another one this week, so I’m playing the game. Even if it is making my fingers twitch with frustration.

Can't resist glancing over my shoulder though so he has no excuse about not being able to read my lips.

"You only think so? What's the matter, Ken? Fall asleep on top of the homework again?"

He's got his head tucked down, visor nearly touching my shoulder to keep us invisible so I can't see his expression. But I know him, and I bet that slight shift is a sigh. I'm grinning even as I turn back to this godforsaken stretch of corridor that looks just like every other godforsaken stretch of corridor that we had to skulk through to get here.

Watch with a real feeling of regret as my targets retreat out of range, doing a reasonable imitation of marching order. It goes without saying that they’re making enough noise in their standard issues boots to cover twelve of us, even if we weren't under orders to be inconspicuous. They're the second set to go by in the last ten minutes, and I don't even have to ask to know that when they disappear around the far corner we're going to move. I can feel it in the tension of Ken's body breathing against my back.

"Intel couldn't give me a more accurate position than this." The words are just stiff enough that I bet Ken did fall asleep on the mound of report data. "If the files Hakase wants aren't here, we'll fall back to the secondary target."

It's hard to be pompous in a dead whisper but he’s had a lot of practice.

But before I can twist the knife a little more, the last flicker of green vanishes and we’re moving. He's right behind me like a warm shadow, automatically sliding into the right hand position at the generic looking doorway.

It occurs to me to wonder as I take my own position why they always put these things in the middle of the corridor. Does that say something about the Galactor mind set, that doors have to have equal spacing on either side? I'll have to remember to ask - some fresh faced intern who gets to spend more of his pay than I ever will has probably already written the definitive report, complete with annotated footnotes and diagrams.

Still, position aside, it looks just like every other door we’re passed which might be why he's not willing to nail it down to being the one we want, not that I actually care. At least now I've got something to do instead of wedge myself into insanely tight spaces every thirty seconds, trying not to be seen by the cockroaches. I swear Ken takes the words 'covert operation’ way too much to heart.

I hate infiltration missions. This is the stuff that Jun does best, or hell, even Jinpei with his love of all things electronic. Why the great white Commander decided to drag me out on this one is beyond me but maybe he's discovering a bent for sadism. Or worse, decided to teach me a lesson.

The cablegun is in my hand though and I'm on one knee in front of the door, tip to the frame even as I'm wondering how much more backtalk he's willing to take before he'll send me back to the 'Phoenix. The drill spins to life under the pressure of my finger, a high pitched whine like a swarm of curious bees. It's not that loud but it sounds like a clap of thunder after all that damned whispering.

Ken's watching for both of us so all I have to do is concentrate. It seems to take forever, even with the modified diamond tip, but I'm through the reinforced frame and chewing into the lock mechanism in under a minute. I can feel the shudder as the delicate machinery inside suddenly becomes so many little metal corkscrews.

Spin the drill one last time as I pull it out, leaving a nice, neat and hopefully barely noticeable hole. Look up and while I still can't see Ken's face because of the angle there's no mistaking the hand signal. I'm thumbing the lock on the gun even as I turn on one knee to put my shoulders to the wall. There's two shuriken in my fingers instinctively and now it's my turn to play eyes. Ken's got the birdrang out and even in the corner of my vision I can see the light slide like liquid over its curving edge as he brings it down. The wicked point sinks in, digging its way into the track slide near the ruined lock. The muscles in Ken's arm cord with effort.

The door doesn't have a chance.

Two heartbeats later we're inside and I'm on automatic just in case we've got company. Ken's moving on the other side doing the same thing so we'll hopefully end up in different corners of the room like we're supposed to. At an instant glance it's sort of medium sized, tone on tone grey and clean enough to eat dinner off the floor. I'm no judge of these things but it looks right to me. Briefing said that this secondary data storage unit was remotely accessed save for routine maintenance and emergency checks.

Sadly, we're completely alone. For once the eggheads were right which sort of takes all the fun out it.

In keeping with today's mission of not getting chewed out, I figure I'll let Ken give me the all clear before I make that decision for him. Ken's sweeping with the transponder even as I check over my shoulder to make sure the door snapped closed behind us the way it was supposed to. It did and he does, and he gives me the sign that it's clean. There are no aural or video devices recording or transmitting from this room which means that we're unobserved.

Of course, what that really means is that nothing is operating right now and the recorders are registering as hunks of silica and copper in various proportions, same as the data banks we've come to hack into. It's only when they start broadcasting that they'll make a noise we can pick up on and that's usually the signal that things are about to get interesting.

So far this mission has been about as interesting as cold porridge. I hate to say it, but I'm about ready to start rooting for the bad guys to score one.

True to form Ken's already focused on the wall of flips and switches and buttons so I guess I can assume we're in the right place after all. It only takes a moment to raise the gun and slip the drill bit out of its bracket, unscrew the mount assembly from the muzzle. It's a good little piece of machinery but it would take too damn long to drill through somebody in case we actually get to fight. I've been called a lot of things... patient isn't one of them.

I’ve got the pieces are stowed and the gun holstered and since that is about the extent of what I can offer this mission, I can just lean back against the wall and do my second favorite thing in the world.

"Hey Ken. If I kissed Jun and really liked it, would we still be friends?"

He doesn't even flinch. "You kiss Jun and she doesn't really like it, I won't have to make that decision because we'll be scraping your remains off the wall."

"You're no fun."

He shoots me a look, a flash of something that might almost be a grin. Then he's back to the data bank, running his fingers just over the controls like he's dowsing for something. For all I know, he is. Magic sense maybe, or just running the schematic through his head. From the outside it looks pretty much the same.

He must have found what he was looking for though because he slips a disk out of the pouch on his belt and slots it into a slim darkness on the panel. Hits a couple of buttons, flips a switch and then... just stares at it. I'm waiting but nothing seems to be happening. All the blinking lights keep right on blinking which tells me a whole lot of nothing. It probably makes sense to him and it probably would even make sense to Jun. Me, I just want to play connect the dots with bullets.

"Hey. That it?"

"Huh?"

The urge shoot something is an itch at the ends of my fingers. "Is that it? Hakase's birthday present, so we can go home now?"

He turns and gives me a small frown. "Not yet. It'll take a few minutes for the worm to propagate, but then we'll be able to get through the encryptions with ease. They'll never even know we were here."

"We? What's this 'we' bullshit?"

"You're here. I'm here. That's the usual definition of 'we'."

Give up on subtlety since it's obviously not getting anywhere. "Look. Ken. Did I screw up really badly recently and just blocked it out? I mean, more than I already did but you already gave me the dressing down for it so I'm back at zero as best I can figure. Just let me know what else I did because I'll make it up to you, I swear. Can't we just go to the command center and blow it up?"

"Now who fell asleep during briefing? We can't because we don't want Galactor to know we have this information at all."

"Doesn't explain why you had to drag me along."

He gives me an indecipherable look over one white shoulder. "Somebody needs to guard the door."

"That's bullshit, Ken."

"No? Then how about I was lonely?"

I can feel my eyebrows going up and there's an answering twitch on his mouth. Shit, he’s laughing at me.

Suddenly he stiffens. A frozen sliver of time then he's whirling, popping the retrieval disk out of its slot. A heartbeat later I'm hearing the voices too, a sound which might be metal on metal. If we're hearing it, it has to be right outside the door.

I'm on the other side of the room with the gun in my hand and suddenly happier. Now this is much more what I had in mind.

"Joe!" His hand is on the barrel, forcing it down.

"You want us to just go quietly or something?"

"No. We hide."

Look around and we're in a room you can walk across in three strides, half taken up by the information panel. Look up and its solid construction up there. We could get through it I'm sure but not in the ten seconds we've got and not without leaving a hole large enough to fit Ryu through. Look down, and my drill is hopelessly outclassed. Unless Ken has a bazooka in his pocket, we're screwed.

He's already past me in a blur of white and I'm turning to follow because I can't do anything else. I'm keeping the gun though because even if he’s got a plan, I’m not giving up on mine.

There are upright storage lockers in here, something I just glanced right over when we came in. Three of them tucked into the gap between the databank and the wall, at such an awkward angle that I'm not even sure how he figured out what they were. The first one is locked, the second one is full of crap but the last one doesn't have anything in it at all.

For about two seconds and then it's got us.

"Shit, Ken, watch your damned elbow."

We're back to the under-voiced muttering, wedged in like two sardines in a can and the hell of it is, there isn't even a grill to look through. It's dark, going to get damned stuffy pretty damned fast and if I'm ever going to develop claustrophobia, now would not be a good time. Try hard not to lean too much on the locker door because I don't want the thing busting open.

Ken's half behind me, his chest pressed up against my side. He shifts minutely and the pressure of his arm eases along my ribs. I can feel my wings bunched up behind me though, half trapped behind his body which is forcing my shoulder down on one side. It also happens to be the arm attached to the hand with the gun. Try and ease it up and only manage to clip the edge of his visor with mine.

"Shit!" There's a spot of warmth on my cheek. I must have scraped skin.

"Quiet." He's got a hand over my mouth, and for a moment all I can taste is slick leather. His fingers tighten over my face even as I tense up, but then the voices come into the room and we're both suddenly trying very hard not to breathe.

"...need to be here. It's just a malfunction in the wiring, is all. We can trace it from substation 32J and be off shift in plenty of time. C'mon, we don't have to do this."

The voice is grating and high pitched even through the buffering metal. I instantly picture this guy as five foot nothing with a face like a weasel. There's a scraping sound, probably a tool kit being slid onto one of the control surfaces.

"So you've got a date, big deal." The other guy sounds bored and annoyed. "I don't need another black mark on my performance review because you want to play footsie with the comm tech over in section fifteen. Prelim says the blockage originates here, so here is where we'll fix it."

Hell. That doesn't sound good. Strain my ears but I think it's just the two of them. I could have them for appetizers and we could be out of here in five minutes, including the time it'd take to get Hakase's present.

Of course, that would blow Ken's little "we weren't here" plan all to hell and back but that's not my problem.

"C'mon Nimal, it's just a wiring break. Next shift can deal with it."

"You don't know that." Oh great, just what I want, a Galactor tech with a work ethic. "I'll start with the relay switches, and you can start checking the IC connections."

"You're all heart."

"I know. Now start working before I put you on report."

Ken's fingers ease away. I can feel a trickle of blood slip down my cheek.

A little more carefully this time I manage to wiggle my arm up between us and figure out how to get the gun holstered without losing an eye.

"Now what?" I whisper.

"Now we wait until they go away." He slides himself a few millimeters to the left, easing himself out a little from behind my body but now the birdrang is digging into my hip which is not an improvement.

"I hate that plan."

"Objection noted." My shoulder is already starting to ache with the strain of the trapped wing which means it's going to be torture sooner than I want to think about. Trying to tug it free turns out to be an exercise in futility though because I can't get a good grip on it. The locker shakes a little bit after one particularly vicious twist and I freeze as the metal protests having both of us playing blind man's bluff in here.

There's no betraying cries of discovery from Yin and Yang so it couldn't have been that noticeable. But I guess that means the wing gets to stay where it is.

"Ken, this isn't going to work." Is it my imagination or it already getting warm in here?

"Yes it will. We've practiced drills like this."

"Yeah. But you weren't standing on my foot during them."

"Sorry." He tries to move but there's really not much he can do. I guess the lucky part is this is a very vertical locker so at least we're not having to crouch or anything. The bad part is that every time he takes a breath, I can feel him stealing my air. The length of his leg is jammed right against mine and the cuff of the boots is abrasive even through the leather of the Birdstyle.

Yeah, this is going to get old, fast.

Turn to try to look at him in the darkness and this time when the visors hit I nearly see stars. Bite off the word before it has a chance to make it anywhere near audio but Ken's already got his hand near my face. How can I tell? Let's just say he's not the only one with psychic powers.

"Lay one finger on me," I manage to growl out after a minute, "and I'll bite it off. Think of a better plan or I will." As an afterthought I add, "Mine's going to involve bullets, just so you know."

He sighs, more vibration than sound. "Give me a minute."

I gotta hand it to him, he's smoke when he wants to be. Carefully, without making the locker shake, he manages to slide free from behind me until we're into a more face to face set up. The change of position puts one of his legs between mine, but now my wing isn't trapped anymore and I can stand straighter. They're still bunched up behind me but that I can live with. For awhile, anyways.

Realize after a minute that the edge of his boot is brushing against my groin every time he so much as breathes and it's damned distracting. And to make things worse, as soon as I realize that's what's going on, I can't stop thinking about it.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not even remotely that way inclined. But the last time I checked I was a healthy, red blooded male and there's this teasing motion over my equipment that I can't get away from. It's damn dark which means that it's not that difficult to imagine that the leg between mine doesn't belong to Ken. In fact, it's very easy to imagine something else entirely.

Yeah, it's too damned warm in here and I'm hard and getting harder. Take a deep breath and tell myself its natural reaction. Perfectly natural. Press back as far as I dare against the wall of the locker and start counting the highlight reels of my favorite kills in my head.

"Joe, I'm going to detrans," he whispers after a few minutes of exquisite torture. "It'll give us more room."

Oh shit. Bad, bad idea Ken. "Uh, that's okay. I think we're good like this." I don't like the breath in my voice but there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it. Listen desperately but the nimrods out there are still babbling about wiring. Weasel Face is really not happy at all about having to work.

I can almost see the frown on his face. "It's a security breach, I know..."

Cough a little and I'm damn glad its blacker than Hades in here. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"I don't understand."

Shit. Now I've got him trying to figure out what's going on. Another bad idea. Ken's stone blind when it comes to some things but even he eventually gets it. Make the quick, and hopefully right decision to just give in to the inevitable. He's probably right too. The Birdstyles are damn good armor but right at the moment I'm not that worried about getting shot at. Later maybe, if I get lucky.

"Never mind, go ahead. I won't look." Feeble humor, but it's the best I got.

Occurs to me belatedly that if he detrans then that damn boot will be gone. I just have to keep him from noticing for a few more minutes.

I can feel his hesitation as he tries to figure out what the hell he's missing. Of course this time I've got the advantage because he can't see my face. He's good but he's not all-knowing no matter what the propaganda vids feed the masses.

His hand comes up, dangerously close to the one thing I don't want him to figure out and he whispers the words.

I've got my eyes closed because I don't want to burn my retinas. Everything pulses outwards, like a wind you can't feel and it occurs to me that it's a damn good thing there's no grill in the locker door or we'd be busted for sure. I bet he probably took that into account before he suggested it.

Truth is, I don't know how it is that this works. I know what I'm told but I try very hard not to think about it, because knowing what this thing does to us each time is nightmare city. The first time I transmuted successfully I was hooked which is a damn good thing, because when I finally figured out what all that explanation actually meant I was too far in to run away screaming.

And in all this time I've never been this close to someone else during the shift. Nowhere near this close, almost skin to skin and the transmute field is crawling over both of us. Exquisite intensity, lifting the hair away from my scalp to run fingers over me like a dangerous lover. In its own alien way it is, and I’m gritting my teeth against the relentless tangle of sensation it's raising, trying to draw me along with what it wants. It has Ken but I'm touching him and it wants me too, reaching inside to stroke itself along my bones. Searching for a connection through me as well.

Clench my fists as the familiar surge jolts through my body, realize what's going to happen an instant before it does. It's all I can do to breathe as the wave crashes over us and we change.

I don't remember anybody warning me this could happen. I'm sure I would remember somebody warning me this could happen. Sure as hell hope he's got his eyes closed too.

Then we're both back in the dark, panting and in our street clothing. At least I am, so I assume he is too. Too damned absurd, his detrans pulls mine along with it, mine makes him transform back and then he yanks me along with that as well... shit, that'd be a comedy of epic proportions. We'd never get out of this locker.

"What. The hell. Was that?"

The world just took a large step to the left and he remembers to keep his voice down. Me, I have to swallow a few times. Fuck, that was amazing.

"Don't know. But next time, I want Jun in here."

"Joe."

"Yeah, Ken?"

"When she pins your hide to the wall, I'm going to leave you there as an object lesson."

Manage a shaky grin even if he can't see it. Stare at the whirl of lightning burned into my eyes, into my skin, into my brain. "She'll have to catch me first."

I hear the catch of breath, soft, but surprisingly he doesn't say anything back. He moves slightly and I can hear his hair brushing over the metal, then his hand bumps mine. Ignore the twist of heat between my legs at the touch, try and turn my attention back to the outside world. After the major fireworks in here I'm surprised nobody's beating down the door to join the party.

Well, they're still out there banging around. Weasel Face is whining something about having the wrong size of driver for the installation but I tune out on the reply. Conscientious but inadequate techs. Great. Just what I need when if I don't get out of here pretty damn soon I'm going to explode. Maybe even literally.

Swallow again and keep my hips as far back as I can. Right. The problem is, and I don't care what the eggheads spout about learned synaptic response, transformation has always felt damn fucking good. More than good to be brutally honest. I've never asked, but knowing Ken he probably has that under control too. Bastard.

I thought I was horny before but now I'm really in trouble. Ken's leg is still between mine and while that damn boot is gone, now I can feel the heat of his skin through the thinner material of his clothing and that's not really any kind of improvement.

Cast around desperately for something to say in this suddenly too intimate darkness but as usual I can't think of a damn thing. Everything has fallen out of my memory, chased away by the lightning rush of shapeshift. Fall back on something I'm good at which is counting coup.

Let's see, he got me assigned to this covert detail in the first place, so one for him. He found us the locker, but that's not a good thing in my books so let's say one for me for being nice enough to trot along. But he was right about there being a little more room now that I'm not going to lose an eye to his visor so that's one for him. But he wasn't able to answer the last dig so that's one for me. Damn it, we're even. Again.

Breath into the darkness and rack my brains. Gotta be something else. Can I count the scrape on my face for a half point? Probably not, it was sort of an accident.

You know, I never thought I was slow on the uptake. But it swims to the surface of my attention that Ken's birdrang is still digging into my hip. But Ken doesn't have his birdrang anymore. And he's not moving either. In fact if I couldn't feel his breath on my cheek I could almost say I'm in this locker with a statue.

But that hard nudge against my leg doesn't belong on any statue I've seen recently. Not including the ones in a modern art museum of course, since some of those new wave artists have nasty senses of humor.

Shit. I don't believe it. I don't fucking believe it. I can feel the grin split my face because this is too good an opportunity to miss. Forget about my own embarrassment in a heartbeat.

"Hey, Ken."

"Yes?" It's not my imagination that his voice is a little breathy, is it? Even for a whisper, that was breathy.

"Feeling okay?"

Now that was definitely a swallow. "I'm fine. You?"

"Hell yeah. I'm fine." Savor the buildup for a moment. It's not often I get to catch Ken with his figurative pants around his ankles. "Happy to see me?"

There's a moment of stunned silence on the other side. I listen and yeah, he's not breathing any more.

This is too fucking perfect. So much better than I could have ever hoped for and it's just my damned luck that there's no one here to appreciate the moment with me. Ken I've-Got-A-Speech-For-Everything Washio, struck totally silent and probably beet red to boot. I can practically hear the wheels grinding as he tries to figure something... hell, anything to say. If I had to guess I'd bet on 'sorry', followed closely by 'its not my fault'.

"I'm sorry." Damn, I'm good. The words are stilted, but there's air behind them which is good sign. Hate to have him pass out from mortal embarrassment. "I can't... look, it's a natural reaction." Well, two out of two ain't bad.

"Natural reaction? You?" Don't bother trying to disguise the smirk. "You probably fill out triplicate forms just to go to the bathroom."

He takes a deeper breath which is probably not one of his smarter moves since it just makes it more obvious what state he's in. "No, I don't. Just... back off, Joe."

"Oh, no can do." Oh, I love this. We're pressed up against each other like we're welded together, and he can't even pretend he's got to run off and do something else which is always a favorite avoidance trick of his. "Unless you think we ought to go with with Plan B and the bullets? No?" It's too easy to tense that leg, slide against the rough fabric of his pants. His body jerks involuntarily and his breath hisses out. "Just let me know and we'll go, guns blazing."

"Joe!" Hell, that was almost a normal speaking voice level. He realizes it too and his next words are much quieter if no less intense. "Don't.... don't..."

"Tease?" There's a thunderous quality to the silence, I can almost see those dark brows pulling together. "This isn't teasing. This is just a little payback." Slide my hip over his erection but this time he's got it under control and while I can feel his body shudder deep, he doesn't actually flinch. I bet his fists are clenched with the effort though.

Grin into the black air and start wondering just how far I can take this and how deep a hole I really want to dig myself into. It's possible that if I play this right, I might be so far ahead in the game he'll never catch up.

He takes a couple of steady breaths while I'm sorting options, pulling himself back into his usual head space. "It's normal. Don't be an ass about it."

Oh what the hell, I've only got one life anyways. If he pushes me through the locker door I can always start shooting things and that's not such a bad second choice.

"C'mon Ken, you can tell me." It amazing how intimate this darkness in, with the line of his thigh riding the curve of mine. Swear I'm not interested in guys, but I'm as hard as he is and not just from transform shock. My good luck that he's at not quite the right angle to figure that part out. "Feels good, doesn't it? Do you fuck yourself afterwards sometimes? You know, when you can get away with it?"

"Joe!" The guilty embarrassment in his voice is as clear to me as if I could see the blush and the strangled fury in his eyes.

"Answer the question flyboy." It's not right to enjoy it this much, is it? Slide my leg slightly over his and it's pure satisfaction when he actually grabs my hip to stop the motion. The locker shivers a little at the uncontrolled reaction but I doubt anyone's gonna notice but us.

"Damn it, no. I don't. Happy?"

"I bet the psych guys love that. That's gotta be unhealthy, you know, repressing _normal_, healthy reactions like that. If it feels good, why not? C'mon Ken, get with the program here."

"I am not .. I don't .. Shit Joe, don't tell me you _do_."

"Hells yeah. Every chance I get."

There's stunned silence on his side, no doubt trying to sort that piece of information into something he can file away. Where would you put something like that anyways? Under A for Aberrant Behavior Patterns? T for Things To Avoid In A Second In Command?

"I've never heard you." What? I must have made some sound of confusion because his voice firms up a little, gets a little steadier. "You're noisy, Joe. You can't keep quiet to save your life."

"The hell!" Okay, that was a little loud. Catch his hand before he can touch my face to shut me up. It was bad enough when he had leather gloves on.

"Hey, Nimal. You hear something?"

Oh shit. Freeze absolutely still and listen and I can feel Ken do the same. His fingers are warm in mine.

"I don't hear anything but you yapping and not doing any work. Get over here and hand me the subduct patch, wouldja?" There's silence, as if Weasel Face is trying to figure out if he actually did hear something. My ears are buzzing with Ken's breath ghosting across my lips. Any sound, any sound at all that says somebody is walking towards this locker and I'll shapeshift back.

Grateful as hell that a Birdstyle is self cleaning or I'd have a hell of a time explaining myself to the laundry crew. It's a given I'm not going to make it through a second transmute so soon after the last one without making a mess of myself, and quite possibly Ken too. Not to mention I'd have to kill everybody in this complex just to be sure the story never got out.

"Light a fire under that ass of yours, wouldja? The subduct patch _now_, not sometime next week." There's a real bark to that voice even through the metal.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your underwear in a bunch..." Weasel Face retreats, I can hear his footsteps moving away. Take a careful breath the same time Ken does and discover I've still got his hand half trapped in mine. Apply pressure to the skin, enough to be a little painful.

"I am not noisy." Am I? Shit. Now I'm the one that sounds defensive.

"I've been sharing the same dorm with you for the last how many years? You want an example? How about that hotel room three months ago." Yeah, he's starting to sound a little more confident. Not good.

"You were sleeping when I got there."

There's a puff of laughter in his voice. "An elephant on tranquilizers couldn't have slept through that. What was her name? Barbie?"

"Hell, I don't know." I have no idea how he does it but I'm losing ground on this already. "Barbara? Becka? Who cares?"

"Not you. Admit it, Joe. You couldn't be quiet during an orgasm if your life depended on it."

"Well, at least I've had one."

Oh hell. One of these days I'll figure out when to keep my mouth shut.

Because there's still and then there's motionless. And then there's Ken who's just frozen into something between glacier and statue. The trickle of breath on my cheek is much too steady, way too calm. With his hand is still raised, fingers still trapped in mine like he's forgotten he was reaching for me.

It's absolutely clear in the utter stillness of his body that he wants to hit me. I know him. I know us. This conversation in any other place and I'd have been hitting the wall by now. But he's hanging onto it, swallowing it because he can't let it go here. Can't hit me, can't walk away... can't do anything but freeze cold on me.

The strangled silence is barely broken by the sound of our breathing. His body is near welded against mine and there's nothing he can do can disguise the shift-induced need in it and if he was embarrassed before and pushing for angry, now he's furious. And I know from a hell of a lot of experience that neither of those things make a damned bit of difference to the way he must feel.

I can taste my heartbeat in the back of my throat. I can almost taste his. And there's something dangerous fluttering under the hammer of my pulse. It takes a moment but then I realize I can put a name to it.

It's not fear. It's curiosity. A twisting, itchy bump of curiosity that always lands me a in hell of a lot of trouble.

_Has_ Ken ever had an orgasm? I have no fucking clue. I'll bet the whole goddamned farm that he's never been with a girl, not all the way. A little heavy petting maybe but that's it. Not the great white Eagle, not a chance because other than Jun nobody's got the right security clearance. I know Ken. He wouldn't get involved with anybody he couldn't trust with our secret because Ken doesn't do casual anything. Everything always has to be so goddamned serious.

For all I know he only gets a hard on during shapeshift and it's not like you can just ask the war to stop while you enjoy the moment. Galactor agents crawling out of the woodwork and shooting up the place tends to rain on the happy parade.

The air's turning to storm, half caught between the ice of his embarrassed fury and the heat of his body and all I have to do is shift slightly forward, turn my hips to his before I can think better of it.

Let him realize that I'm just as hard as he is. His breath catches savagely as he figures it out but then the friction of rough material over his cock stops any words he might have had. He's angry, shit, he's angry. At himself. At me. At his traitor body but that just makes it better. Grind my hips into his and then it's my turn to shudder before I can stop myself.

Fuck, that feels more than good.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His voice is thick with things he probably doesn't want to think about too closely, but I hear them. Has he ever felt this way before?

"What do you think?"

He can't help but swallow as I press him as far back as I dare. We're jammed up so close in here that I can actually feel the head of his cock as it twitches, so surreal against the calm of his voice. He could almost be giving me a briefing report in Nambu's office except for the damning evidence of his excitement nudging hard into my thigh. "I think you're working on an insubordination charge."

That's worth a laugh, even if it's half growl at this point. "C'mon, Ken. You can tell me. You ever felt this good before? Ever fucked somebody standing up?"

He stops breathing again, his body stills and that's all I need to know, grab his wrist in a te waza lock as he reaches for the pressure point at the base of my throat.

He's the best of us but we're jammed in here, hip to hip, chest to chest and there's literally nowhere for him to go. The best he can manage is to half slide his shoulders a few inches to the side but his legs are trapped against mine with no room to maneuver. I've managed to get my fingers into the bones of one wrist to keep that arm forced down but his other hand is sliding along my ribs, counting.

Finds the soft spot and then there's pain sparking up to my shoulder, white flowers in the darkness.

Put my lips against his ear, feel the brush of his long hair over my face.

"How about a wager, flyboy?"

He digs in again, and there's a hard taste of metal in the back of my throat. Realize I'm grinding the bones of his wrist under my fingertips and that I'm panting with the effort not to let go. He's so fucking hard and I thrust softly against him, but there's not enough friction, nowhere near enough pressure. He makes a sound deep in the back of his throat and I don't even know if he realizes it. It's such a rush that I have to lick my lips.

"C'mon Ken, I'll bet you can't hold out. I bet I can make you come."

"Fuck off, Joe."

His voice is strained, ragged. Still speaking in that furious whisper but there's no force behind it.

"Is it a bet? I make you come, you don't court martial me."

There's a heartbeat of silence. Then: "That's not a bet. What do I get if you come first?"

Shit, I don't believe it. He's actually arguing with me, wanting terms, just like any other damned insane bet we've come up with. Who can glide the farthest when a fall means broken bones. Who can drive the fastest in rush hour traffic without killing anybody, including ourselves. He's making out like he's actually considering this.

Hell, now I'm suddenly considering it. Just another game, another bet, and if I win I'll be able to ride his ass about it for weeks. Grin to myself because even losing doesn't sound half bad. And in this one, I'm starting out with all the advantages which sounds pretty damned good to me.

"Fuck, Ken. I'm going to rock your world off its axis and you want to know what you're going to get out of it. Shoulda been a goddamned lawyer." But I'm not really listening anymore because in the last two seconds it became a done deal, he's not going to back down either. The line of his throat is just under my lips, and it's no effort at all to run my teeth over the large pulse there.

Even with the distraction he sticks grimly to the topic which is more than I can say for me.

"What do I win?"

"Fuck, I don't know. What do you want?" It's getting hard to think with everything sliding into hungry, curious anticipation. There's something so goddamned taboo about this, about the way he feels against me. Soft where I'm expecting hard, hard where I'm expecting soft. His nipples rub against me every time I breathe. There's a trickle of sweat teasing a line of sensation down my spine. Lift my head away from his neck before I do something really stupid. Suck in a lungful of air.

"The debrief reports. You fill them out."

"I hate fucking debrief reports."

There's something dark in his voice. "I know."

Try and get out at least one more coherent sentence. "Okay, just so I got it straight. I win, you don't throw me under house arrest. You win, I get the paperwork."

The silence is deafening. I'm already running my hand over his hip, feeling the roughness of the cloth and he's not stopping me. His fingers on my ribs have stilled.

"Is it a bet, flyboy?"

Curl my fingers over the thick edge of his belt to touch the smooth skin of his stomach. He recoils silently.

"Is it. A fucking. Bet?" The whisper is diamond between us, my lips just barely above his. Run a teasing finger over the bare inch of skin I've exposed and his breath expels in a long, hungry sigh.

"Yes."

For a second I'm not even sure I heard him right. And then for another second I don't believe his goddamned answer.

But that single assenting sound is falling through the darkness and my hands are already under his shirt, yanking the material away. I have no idea if I'd have stopped even if he'd said no, I'm wound that tight. Muscle slides like silk under his skin even as I lean in to bury my face into the curve of his neck. My lips only brush the column of his throat though because he tilts his head away at the last second.

There's the scent of something cold in his hair, something like air and wind and flying and its so perfectly Ken that it hurts. My thumbs brush against the hard curve under his ribcage, my fingers spreading until I'm holding him in place, not like its really necessary. Realize dimly that his waist is almost as small as a girl's but that's where the resemblance ends. Even in the darkness there's nothing soft about the body under my hands, nothing yielding in the way he twists silently in protest as my fingers dig in.

Thrust once, hard, let the leash slip just a little. It's so damned hot in here and his skin is driving me crazy. He grunts as the small motion rocks him back against the metal wall and that shocked little sound is the best thing I've heard all day.

Take a breath even as I smile into his neck, lick a wet line over the column of his throat because Ken never loses control. His temper sure, his focus even, but he's always the one that says when to move, how far to go, how fast to take it. He tastes like salt and something else and it's too fucking perfect to feel his body rage so still against me. I'm going to have this bet on a platter in no time.

I'm running through things in my head, but there's no room to do almost anything in here. One thing we do got going is a hell of a lot of friction though and it's almost too easy to slide over him, let the reaction I'm becoming say what I'm going to do next. Brace my legs as far apart as they can go and start to sink down, use the loss of height to bring us into teasing contact. It's frustrating and it's heaven at the same time. I could probably come like this if I'm not careful. Which is fine, as long as he comes first.

Scrape my hands up his side, deliberately let my fingernails carve small welts into his skin.

"C'mon, Ken. Does it feel good?"

I know I have to hear his voice. It's not good enough to do this to him silently and I'm half snarling with laughter because he's right. Again. I can't be quiet to save my life but I'll admit that to him later. Right now I need to hear it because I want him to know that it's me in here. Not somebody else in the darkness, not some faceless stranger. _Me_.

"Come on, Ken, talk to me. Tell me how I make you feel."

Hit the perfect angle and the length of my cock slips over his, grinding his hips against mine. It's a small, pleasurable hurt in the middle of the sparks that flare in my vision. Fuck, I'd really better slow down and that's a damned scary thought since I haven't even started yet.

Suddenly there's a hand in my hair. A splinter of surprise as fingers strong enough to force a door open pull my head to the side and his mouth is on mine. A heartbeat later his other hand snakes down between us and his fingers wrap over me, squeezing me tight.

"Fuck!"

I wasn't expecting that and my hips buck in automatic reaction even as he swallows down my voice. He's kissing me so hard that I can't breathe and it's awkward, harder than I'm used to. His teeth scrape over mine and the taste of his mouth is unsure but still demanding, calling the shots. His hand flexes and then his palm rubs over me and suddenly the kiss is sweet and growing sweeter. His tongue licks tentatively into my mouth and I just about lose it.

"Ken..." He even tastes good. I can feel the rough skin of my cheek abrading his, and the raised lines of old scars under my fingertips.

Girls are nothing like this. Smaller, with hands that are half tease and half fright, like they're afraid to touch too hard. Like they're afraid to hurt me or that I'll hurt them or some other bullshit. Even the ones that think they know what they're doing, it's always this game of advance and retreat, bait and switch.

Ken doesn't know anything but forward. His fingers are working over me, trying to figure this out and if he's never done this before there's still no hesitation.

I'm half growling with the urge to fuck him but there's no damned way, not here. An hour ago I would have half killed anybody who'd had the balls to tell me that I'd be in this situation. Now I want to tear this locker apart so that I can drop him to the ground and do something unforgivable to his body. He can absolutely court martial my ass afterwards.

This isn't going like I expected. Some hazy notion of a little cock tease, use a few tricks and then being able to hold it over on him for the next couple of weeks, maybe get out of having to do these damned sneak missions for awhile. Except that I forgot that Ken doesn't play games with anything. It always has to be so goddamned serious.

I'd laugh but there's no air for it. I am so screwed.

If he's never kissed anybody before, he's a hell of a quick study. Run my tongue over his, groan into the heat of his mouth. There's a faint taste like sweet caramel and I move into his hand blindly, wanting more.

"Yes." The whisper is against my lips, another kind of kiss and I can almost see the blue heat of eyes half closed. "It feels good." His cheek touches mine and his fingers tighten in my hair. "You're going to lose."

Thrust upwards, lifting him slightly even as his hand tightens over me. Run a thumb over one rock hard nipple and win the reward of a whistled breath.

"Not this time. This is something I'm good at."

A ghost of a smile in the whisper. "Yeah? Prove it."

Can't turn down a challenge like that, can I? There's no way I can turn down something like that. It's my duty to make him eat those words, because if I'm going down faster than I thought possible, I'm taking him with me.

"Anything you say... " I've got his shirt yanked up halfway up his chest, exposing the clean line of his stomach and its a sweet trace to follow with my spread fingers. Slip my mouth to the side, bite into the hard angle of his jaw and he twists silently as my fingers find the sensitive skin just behind his belt buckle. "...Commander."

Run my teeth over the tender junction between shoulder and neck and his stomach tightens. His breath hisses out silently and the muscle flutters under my hand. It's involuntary, I'd do the same but I use the distraction to slide my fingers inside the waist of his jeans. Search blindly for his lips, his hand in my hair another source of sensation. Take another kiss or give one, I can't really tell. Fuck, he's really getting the hang of this.

I've dressed in the dark so many times, most of the way asleep, blind drunk or just plain out of it with painkillers. Even so, with one hand it's difficult to thread the belt through the metal that holds it all together. Tug at it impatiently, fumbling with odd angle. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, paralyzingly deep but it isn't a protest, not really. His fingers continue to move against me, stroke a heat between my legs and I can't disguise the shake as he rubs his long fingers over the head of my erection. Fuck, that feels so goddamned good. I'm thrusting against him in reaction and it's not helping in trying to get his damned belt undone.

Slowly of course. Don't want to shake the locker, do we. Don't want to make any noise that can be heard.

I am not losing this bet. I am not losing this bet. Hanging onto the words grimly because this is going downhill fast.

One thing they taught us is that sometimes the best defense is an overwhelming offense and if I don't think of something fast I'm a dead man. Happy, but dead. So as soon as his belt falls away my hands are on his hips and shoving roughly down his legs, pushing the material the hell out of my way.

His head comes up, tearing his mouth away from mine but it's too late. I've got my hand around him as I stand from the half crouch, more a matter of bracing my legs than anything else. It feels so goddamned good, his legs stradding over mine and he's hot, heavy in my hand and more than slick with his own need. I'm not the only one drowning in this and that's worth a small sound of satisfaction. My fingers tighten teasingly as the scent of sex rises around us in sharp cloud, urgent and it about drives me out of my mind. Every muscle in his body tightens as he comes up on the balls of his feet.

The hand in my hair spasms as I stroke the hard length of him, coating my fingers. Once, twice, his hips jerking with each successively smoother motion. Three times and I'm covered in him, my fingers sticky with what he wants.

"God... Joe...." His hips thrust a bare few inches, there's no damned room in here for us. He's velvet over tempered steel, so smooth in the roughness of my palm. I'm nearly choking on the feeling of tension, his and mine and the whole world is a spiraling darkness. There's a twisting in my gut that I can't really control but I'm not the only one, the tremble in his legs gives him away. Drink a hard mouthful of air because I can't remember the last time I breathed.

Then his long fingers move, reaching between my legs to touch something that sparks pleasure through my body and I growl something, I have no idea what.

There's a soundless laugh. "You and what army?" he whispers.

Take a deep breath because if I don't, I'm going to screw being quiet in favor of hearing my name being yelled. Concentrate. Think about the debrief reports. When it's back under the most control I'm going to get, I start to stroke his cock again. His hand slides down between my legs to cup my balls, and then it's my turn to exhale, give him what he's looking for.

Lean in, claim another kiss and it's a deadly rhythm, with his tongue burning under mine. I don't know if all guys feel like this, or if it's just him, but this is the most mind blowing experience I've ever had.

I take it back. It's gotta be him.

"This isn't. Fair." He licks the words into me, smoldering over my skin. His lips slide over mine and he bites me under the jaw. Fuck, talk about a page from my own book. He's taking everything and turning it around, his voice deeper than I've ever heard it before. I'd give almost anything to see his face right now. Sink my hand into his hair and haul his teeth away from my throat before he hits something vital.

"What's not fair?" Squeeze the head of his cock, rub a thumb over the slick underside. He stops breathing and for a second I almost think I have him.

"Your pants are still on."

"That's not my problem."

His teasing, distracting hand curls into a fist and nails scrape over me. Even through the material it hurts and yet it feels so damn good I have to bite my lip.

"Temper, temper."

Then his hands are at my belt. Unlike me though he takes his time, clever fingers coming back time and again to stroke me, touch me. I'm about ready to sit up and beg for it by the time he pulls everything apart, and I'm finally free.

But he doesn't touch me now, the bastard. His hands slide to my hips, holding me back from the single motion it would take to bring us into contact.

"Fuck... Ken!"

My answer is his tongue at my collarbone, sucking hard. We're going to be covered in totally unexplainable bruises at the end of this and I don't fucking care at all. His hair trails over my skin, sticking to me in little sparks of torture. Tilt my head back and his lips rise automatically, his tongue moving over the pulse in my throat for an aching moment.

I can't breathe it feels so good. Thrust forward urgently but his hands still won't let me get close enough.

"You are such a fucking tease," I whisper. "Come on." Run my hand down his hard length and he makes an approving noise deep in his throat.

"What are the rules?"

I growl at him. "There aren't any fucking rules and you know it."

"The bet then."

How the hell he's managing to think is beyond me. "Fuck. Whoever comes first, loses."

"And you're close." His hands slide down my hips even as he leans in to brand a kiss on me. He kisses like he fights, which is to say it's all I can do to keep up.

When he finally lets me breathe, I'm seeing stars. I'm so damned hot that I'm sticking to the metal I'm braced against.

"Fuck, Ken. You keep this up I'm going to nail your ass to the wall and take the court martial."

"And lose." His hips move, sliding himself in the slick dampness of my hand and the whole damned world smells like desire. Smells like him. Every time I close my eyes and see darkness, I'm going to flash on this and the fact that if he doesn't touch me I'm going kill him. "That's your problem, Joe. No self control."

Twist hard to the side, wrench his head back. He loses his death grip and I'm finally able to surge forward, pin him against the wall.

"No. That's _your_ problem."

It's strange. Fucked if I'm into guys but I'm harder than I've ever been in my life and it's all focused on the fact that he's driving me crazy. His body is so wired against mine that I can feel the helpless tremor of muscle strained too far, his breath half caught in his throat, but he's still, somehow in control of it. That has to change, or I'm going to break something.

Slide my chest over his, thrust between his legs. Move a little harder, searching blindly for something to shake his world apart. His hands are at my shoulders somehow, trying to push me away but I don't care how strong he is, there's just nowhere to move in here.

"No!" His whisper is strangled as I find something that yields and his fingers dig into me in a punishing grip. So close.

Laugh silently because the angle is all fucking wrong. I don't even know what I'm looking for but this isn't going to work. Jammed too close together, his skin is slick against mine with the hard tangle of his shirt between us.

My hand is wet over the curve of his hip. Pull back just that little bit that I can manage because I don't want to lose him, not now. He exhales in a hard painful sound, and I don't know if it's relief or disappointment. No time to even care because in a single motion I've got both of us trapped in the excruciatingly sweet grip of my fingers.

"Joe!"

This time it's him, this time it's his voice that breaks because it's almost too much. His hips thrust because they can't do anything else and it's so sweet to feel him moving against me. Return the favor, try and find a rhythm that will take us both over the edge. His hand falls away from my shoulder to tighten over mine, another layer of hot friction. There's white sparks of light in my eyes and I can't seem to find my body anymore.

"Feels good, doesn't it Ken? Tell me again about self fucking control."

He makes a sound, half whimper, half laughter and then his head falls forward and his teeth graze my shoulder. Everything tightens dreamily and he's so damned hard in my hand. Start to fuck him in earnest, feeling my cock slide over his. I can feel the sweat trickling down my side.

"...telling you Nimal, I heard something."

Shit. Oh shit, not now. Please fucking god, not now.

His lips are at my throat and I swear that's gotta be Weasel Face moving towards us. I'm not really sure because all I can really hear is the thunder of blood in my ears. Ken's moving now, fucking me back and I can't stop. His hand spasms over mine and the feeling about blows me apart. Sink my teeth into his shoulder and shudder, trying desperately to hang on.

"K'so. _Ken_. The door."

Reach out blindly and manage to find it behind me. This thing's probably built of cheap less-than-mecha-grade aluminum, rough and pitted under my fingertips, but I can feel the lip that helps it stay shut. Fuck. Curve my fingers into that ridge and hold on desperately. A heartbeat later Ken's hand shifts away from where we're moving together, rises to brace itself over my shoulder. He's holding on as well and not a moment too soon. Sink a kiss into the skin behind his ear as the door shakes.

"That's weird." That muffled voice is definitely Weasel Face. I'm picturing breaking his neck even as the door shakes again and my fingers, slick with sweat and other things start to slip against the metal. Everything I've got into hanging on, into not making a sound as Ken slides down, thrusting slowly against me. His other hand comes up over my ribs, digging into me in a rough caress. "I could have sworn I heard something."

I'm laughing into Ken's ear, because I can feel the shiver of cold over my skin, the twisting in my balls that says I'm about done. Arch back, put my shoulders against the wall for leverage. Imagine that I'm fucking him, with his hair wild and his eyes black and blind beneath me. I bet he'd feel fantastic. His other hand rises to my throat now, the ball of his thumb pressing against the hard flutter of pulse.

His lips find mine. "_Quiet_," he whispers.

"It's locked and mice don't come with lockpicks. Look, are you about done shirking now?"

The rhythm is brutal. My eyes are closed so goddamned tight there's lightning crawling in my vision.

"I'm telling you Nimal, I keep hearing something in here."

The door shakes one last time and my fingers tighten helplessly. I can feel the edges of the metal slicing in, blood stinging my skin.

"Look. I've about had it. You've done nothing but piss around since we got here. Get your skinny ass over here and help me pack this up. We'll check out substation 32J next and if you whine about it any more, we'll do the next one too."

"Nimal, come on, have a heart! I'm going to miss my date if we gotta check out the sub as well."

His voice is retreating finally, moving away but I don't fucking care now.

Because Ken's stopped breathing.

He shakes once, twice, hard and fast. Somehow, fuck, somehow manage to hang on, I have no idea how. I can actually hear the metal behind me complaining as his fingers sink in, indenting with the pressure of his grip.

"Come on Ken, _come on_..." A ragged whisper from my lips.

"...No."

Lick my lips, a growl rising from deep inside. It fills this tight, overheated space and it's crawling over both of us and it triggers something, releases something in me.

Surge forward and realise dimly that nothing is going to stop me now. Anybody that opens that door right now is going to get my fingers in his throat and I'll fucking enjoy that too.

Then my hand is in his hair and my teeth are in his throat. His head snaps back and he makes a noise, pain, surrender, something else that might be defiance.

It's too much. It's too much to hold back anymore and I can feel release boiling up, a wash of cold intention over my body, prickling over my shoulders. But he's coming with me, I can feel his body shaking in hard, tight waves and then we're coming together, spilling heat into my hand.

There's a white storm in my mind and he's pinned against the unforgiving metal, writhing over me in the agony of release. Raise my head and swallow his breath in a savage kiss, his mouth burning hot under my lips. His tongue is frantic, almost mindless under mine and he drives forward again and again. I'm with him, into him, sliding over the dampness of his skin. I'm wet with both of us and it's exquisite pain to stroke my hand down, press us even closer together. He shudders with the motion, and I'm kissing him like I'm trying to drink him down and it feels so goddamned good I never want it to end.

Finally come to with my forehead against his shoulder, breathing like I've run a marathon in full gear.

"Fuck." Which about says it all. He swallows, I can feel the painful motion of his throat against my cheek.

"Yeah."

Shift against him, breathe the scent of his skin. He smells like hard sex and metal and underneath it all there's something piercingly sweet. Pull my hand away reluctantly and I'm covered in both of us, sticking my fingers together. Brace my hands against the locker wall and find that I'm smiling into the curve of his neck. My hair is plastered uncomfortably to my face.

"Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"Still gonna respect me in the morning?"

His breath hitches and his skin twitches like a shy horse for an instant.

"I'm just asking, you know." The urge to lick the salt off his throat is almost overwhelming in its intensity but I'm coming down off the high, and cold reality is starting to settle in like a snowdrift. Shit, I don't believe what we just did. It's so fucking unreal but his breathing isn't anywhere near normal yet either. "Don't wanna screw up and kicked out before I get breakfast."

"Joe. You're a pain in the ass."

I can't help it. It's too perfect.

"No. But I could have been."

His breath hisses out. "Joe. Shit, you just don't let up, do you?"

"C'mon, Ken. That was fucking mind blowing. Admit it." Lean back carefully, glad that it's blacker than sin in here. Some things are just too fucking intimate to see in somebody eyes. I don't want to him see mine either. My voice at least is steady enough.

His head thumps softly against the metal, and I can almost see the pained expression on his face. It'd be more effective if his pants weren't around his knees. Or mine, for that matter.

"I admit it. Happy?"

"Smile when you say that."

"Joe." That was an almost normal tone of voice, a bark underneath the single word.

"So... I win, right?"

"The hell. You came first."

"No hablo espanol, senõr. The hell I did."

It sounds like he's going to argue the point but then his breathing firms up, steadies. I can almost see his face snapping back together, as the part of him that's the Eagle comes belatedly to the rescue. A heartbeat or two goes by and he's probably arguing inside his head. When he speaks, its almost perfectly normal.

"Okay. Call it a draw."

I'm grinning at him even though he can't see it.

"Sure. No court martial, no debrief reports. Deal?"

His breathing twists and there's something there, something hard to pin down. A smile? "Yeah. Deal."

"So you think Yin and Yang are still out there, listening in?"

"Yin and.... oh. They left already."

"What? Left? When?" This is getting more and more uncomfortable by the moment, but damned if I wanna be the first one to reach for my pants. My backside is sticking to the metal and it's not a particularly pleasant feeling now that I don't have Ken to take my mind off it.

He shrugs, a whisper of motion. "I heard the door open. It's been dead quiet out there for the last four minutes. They're gone."

Blink for a second, then I have to laugh. It's low but it's real.

"Shit Ken, you and Superman both." I know I've confused him, I don't even have to see his face. Shake my head and pull it back together. "Never mind. Ready to go finish shopping for Hakase's present then?"

"They're going to be wondering what the hell took us so long." His voice is dry, and if I didn't know him so well there wouldn't be anything in it but dry observation.

"Tell them we had a hell of a time gift wrapping it."

He makes a noise, half strangled. "Close your eyes. I want to see if transmute will pull you in tandem again."

"Oh hell. Not again."

"Close your eyes."

But I've got them closed as soon as he said the words and he whispers the sequence. This time its not so harsh, although it still makes my teeth ache with pressure. It's smoother this time as something yields almost instantly as Ken's Birdstyle shifts into life. Mine surges to answer, tingling over my nerves and pulling an echo of pleasure between my legs and then we're both back in our leathers. Flex my hand but I can't feel him on me anymore.

Take a deep breath and shake away the feeling of loss. Listen hard for a moment, not that I don't trust him when he says that they're gone but it's habit to always check for myself. It's dead silent and there's no point hanging around waiting for the grass to grow. Crack the door and spill out in a liquid rush, a shuriken in my hand.

Nothing. He's spiraled into position beside me, and a glance gives me white and blue. I can't see his eyes through the visor.

Straighten from my instinctive crouch and disappear the dart.

"Let's hurry this up and get the hell out of here."

I'm still whispering and as soon as I realize it, I curse myself for an idiot. Take about two steps towards the console but he's not following.

"Joe."

Turn on one heel and stare at him. Something....

"I didn't win, did I?"

I know I'm gaping at him. Snap my teeth shut with force of effort.

"No. You didn't."

"But I always win."

"The hell, Commander. I distinctly recall it being a draw. I said I was good."

I still can't see his eyes but there's a smile on his lips.

"Not so good as all that. I almost had you."

Growl at him, because that's not fucking fair. "You got damned lucky. Commander."

His head tilts as if he's considering something. He's a white statue of himself and if he's breathing I can't see it.

"Best of three?"

I don't even want to know what expression is on my face. I really, really don't, because all I can suddenly see is his hair spread over my pillow and watching his face while I make him beg for it.

Answer before my reason can manage a coherent response.

"You're on."

And suddenly hope to hell I don't regret the decision.


End file.
